LaughOutLoud: A joker x harley quinn story
by Vicariously
Summary: A joker x harley fic. Takes place after TDK. Harleen is a lazy teen in the need of a summer job. She just wants to have fun... Please read/review, my first fic. Teen, rating may go up later.
1. click, click, pwn

Author's note: Hi there. This is my first fic in oh, about 6 years. So forgive me if this is rough around the edges. Comments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are highly in need. If I don't get feedback, I'm far less likely to continue with where this is going. Yes, I'm doing it for myself, but there's no reason to put it online if no one else is reading or enjoying it. My version of Harley is a bit different than the series(s), but this is my rendition of her before she finished her degree and became a professional. The Joker will be in TDK style format, as Heath Ledger's dazzling performance. This story is in your honor, HL. RIP, we miss you.

_Let's put a SMILE on that face!_

**Laugh. Out. Loud. A Joker x Harley Story**

Chapter one: Click, click, pwn

Blood was everywhere. Bodies lined the floor. One person stood over them in victory, a smile lined their face. The guns and sharp little utensils dropped to the ground with a clatter.

"Goddammit, Harlequin." A male's voice came over the receiver.

A high pitched laugh rang through the headset. It was giddy, joyful, and plastered in supremacy.

"Not fair that a girl can pwn so well, it really isn't."

"She's probably a fat bitch anyways."

"Shut up, dude, Harlequin's a good player. Don't get your balls in a frenzy just because she annihilated your sorry ass."

Boys argued over and over through her headset as Harleen Quinzel cackled in real life. She strung away from her computer and smiled gleefully at her mastery in first person shooters. For a nineteen year old girl, she wasn't your typical one. She curled up on her swivel chair and took a few spins. She stretched her arms.

"Where are you from, anyways, Harlequin?" Asked user MonsterKill23.

She stopped spinning and took a click of the computer mouse as she tilted her head towards the mic.

"The states." She said.

"We know that." Said a boy with an aussie accent, TheYAxis.

"Mmm… Gotham City." She knew the rules of the internet. Don't give out your name or where you lived, but she honestly couldn't say that she cared.

"Gotham huh. Oooh Spooky, aren't you scared of the joker!!" Autro asked.

"Not really. He's all locked up and stuff now." Harleen responded, bored of the subject already. "The city is really big anyways. That's like asking people in New York if they're afraid of terrorists."

"Yeah, but that stuff just 'appened to you a week ago." TheYAxis said.

"It didn't concern me." Harleen responded. "Anyways, you guys up for another rou—"

She was quickly interrupted by an old woman's faint voice.

"HARLEEN!"

"Actually guys I gotta go, bye." She quickly stated and threw off her headset. The girl named Harleen stampeded down the stairs, jumping the last step and landing in the kitchen, her sneakers skidding across the tile floor.

"Uh, yeah?" She quipped casually, folding her arms. Her aunt turned away from the stove and looked at her with a tired expression. Her uncle flipped through the newspaper, getting ready to go to work. He took a swig of his coffee, not noticing Harleen's abrupt appearance.

"You've been up all night again." Her aunt sternly said. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a statement. It was an accusation. Harleen didn't get a chance to open her mouth to even speak a word.

"You're 19, you're failing your classes in community college and you're unemployed. You don't do anything for this household and you don't do anything for yourself but have fun and play video games. You're such a bright girl, why are you wasting your potential." She ranted. "And you used to be the star little gymnast and won all those awards in junior high too."

Harleen rolled her eyes. She was tired of getting the same spiel everyday. She nodded. Nodded. Agreed. Then.

"So your uncle and I have decided to employ you at Arkham."

"Hey Now! I'm not THAT crazy!" Harleen bristled; her blond hair took a swish as she took a step forward. "Wait, employment?" Her aunt nodded.

"Well your uncle is in the board of directors there. And we both know you need a job, isn't that right, honey." Her uncle nodded, face in his newspaper, sipping his java.

"I refuse." She stated bluntly.

Her Aunt sighed once more. "Then I suppose I'm disconnecting the internet."

"You can't do that, What if I have a psychology paper to write!" She snarled. Wikipedia was a god. End of story.

"Oh for heaven sake's, Harleen, it wouldn't destroy you to work there. It would be good for your major, too. Right, honey?"

He nodded.

"I can't believe this." Harleen whirled around to the cabinet and poured herself some coffee as well. The hot taste wasn't even comparable to her anger right now. It was just… suppressed.

"You took your medications, right?" Her aunt asked. Harleen shot a look to the corner of the counter where 8 different bottles sat. She opened one by one and swallowed her pills.

"Uh. Yeah." She sighed. She hated taking medications. She wasn't sick though, she was just different. That's what she always told herself, but an 8 hour gaming session was enough to get any bad thoughts away.

"You can be an intern there. You know, minor paperwork, house cleaning after a patient..."

"Oh boy, sounds fantastical." She growled into the streaming cup after she twisted the lids back onto the bottles and tossed them back in their corner.

"I guess if you're going to be picky, you can pick any one you want." Her uncle gave in, finally speaking a word. How rare of him to care.

Did it matter which lunatic she took care of? She didn't care. Wait…

Wait…

Yes, yes she did. A smile adorned her face as she slid around, amused and alert. If she was going to have to do work, she might as well have it _her_ way.

"The Joker." She couldn't help but laugh.

--

So that's what I got. Like I said, I haven't done this in years, so it will take a little getting used to. Tell me what works, what doesn't, what's what, you name it. Tell me if you want me to kick it up a notch on the rating and… other things. eyebrow wiggle

By the way, did I ever tell you how I got these scars?

Joker in the next chapter. Oh yus.


	2. A date with destiny

Chapter Two: A date with destiny

His dark eyes shifted to the door. It unlocked, unlocked… unlocked… and unlocked. Damn, why so many locks? It's not like he was dangerous or anything…

The fancy director of the board of directors stood there, Robert Quinzel followed by two guards with pretty machinery strapped to their belts. Quinzel himself looked pretty rough. An obvious large coffee stain on his shirt and his face flushed. Balding was an understatement as the little hairs he had left stuck out on end.

"And what do I owe… these gentlemen an honor?" The man, known as the Joker, rocked back in forth in a shoddy looking chair. Handcuffed, he brought his knees up and rested his elbows there, cradling his face in his hands, looking up at the director curiously, like a child.

"It's only been a week and you've had five of our employees quit. I'm tired of your damn shenanigans."

Oh he liked that word. "Shenanigans" he breathed off his tongue. He tilted his head and batted his eyelashes up at him. His make-up gone, his face bare yet still full of ferocity and life. His wilted hair was like weeds and stuck out like the wild. One could tell he was still a beast, not at all tamed like other lambs here.

"Now you play by our rules, you sick freak." The Sheppard spat. He leaned down to place a foot on the chair. "Now that my niece will be working here…"

"Ah, I see, I see." Joker lowered his head and nodded into his hands. He paused for a few seconds and looked back up.

"Well if she's got your looks, I can't say I'd want to fuck her anyways." He gave a twisted smile before being punched in the face. Blood trickled down his lips, over the rocky curvatures of his scars. Like a serpent, he licked the very spot. Dried paint, scars, whatever, it was habit.

The chair recoiled and hit the wall behind him. The director seethed as the guards made an advance.

"Now, now." The Joker grinned, holding up his hands, showing that they were still obviously cuffed. The guards still scooted closer. Robert Quinzel rolled his sleeve back down and smoothed the cuff over, giving a sigh. Or was it a huff? A puff?

"If you lay so much as a hand on her, you're the one that's going to be fucked." He warned and turned to leave.

"Well I for one, like it rough." The villain smirked. Why did no one ever laugh? All so serious, no fun at all… maybe he would have to show them how to have a good time? Well, when the time was right of course…

His days were so boring. Harassing the interns and staff around the hospital was only so much fun, otherwise he was just poked and prodded with needles and too many questions. Ah… fun. He remembered when he had that. He sat in his room, itching at the hand bindings, rolling around on his bed in boredom. He violently erupted in a flail, kicking his feet against the flimsy mattress, like a kid having a tantrum.

Then, she arrived.

He sat upright and watched the door unlock, one by one. It slowly swung open as a girl peeked her head in. She must have been no older than twenty, a child. Her blonde hair was tied back into two pigtails, which made her look even younger. Her blue eyes scanned the room and connected with his. The sky and the dark sea below seemed to coexist for a moment as their stare danced.

She was far braver than most. Other interns wouldn't even look at his face. Was it his scars? His devilish good looks?

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The girl tilted her head, as if to get a better look at him sideways. He copied her movements, tilted his head to meet her gaze.

She laughed. A smile crossed her face. Her laugh was wholesome, young, and free. Her cheeks turned a soft blush as she regained her composure.

"I'm Harleen Quinzel." She said, somewhat matter-of-fact-ly.

Harleen. Harleen. Harrrrllleeeenn. The name reverberated in his mind.

"Harley Quinn." The wolf corrected as he licked his lips.

--

Well, that's what I got. The real fun should start soon. It will be a few days at max before I write another chapter. I wrote the first two in a day. Reviews are the key motivator here.


	3. J

Harleen shut the door behind her

A/n: hey guys, here's a longer chapter with their interaction. I just wanted to say something, yes this is romance, but this is also Joker and Harley we're talking here. Their 'relationship' will be twisted, and it will be abusive. If you can't handle that, go read some WALL-E fanfics. Thank for you reviews so far, keep it up! :) I love you guys. Tell me what you think of this chapter.

Chapter 3: J

Harleen shut the door behind her. She couldn't much say she had been in this sort of predicament before: in the room with a man, a serial killer, and a beast. The air around him was electric, it seemed to live. She felt her skin prickle as his gaze pierced hers. He didn't look like he did on TV, in the newspapers. No make-up, that is. The way he was now, one would almost assume he was just a man, but as his gaze sliced down hers, she knew different. He was different. Special.

He sat on his bed, cross legged, staring down Harleen like a predator. She cracked a smile, something she did when she was nervous. She finally broke the stare-down in defeat and gazed upon the rest of his body. Blonde wild hair matted down to his face on some parts, but freely broke loose and crazed out on other parts: a bad hair day, in her opinion. His face, of course, was what stuck out the most. While he was indeed a man, maybe early thirties, it was hard to tell, his face was… "well carved". Smooth, then rugged, then etched… The side of his mouth seemed swollen, and dried blood lay on his lips. She wondered what had happened.

She looked down at his handcuffs and felt more at ease.

"I'm Harleen Quinzel." She said, as if it were obvious.

"Harley Quinn." The Joker corrected.

"What?" She walked in further, unsure of what to do. She knew what she had to do here. Give him meds, deliver food, clean his room, and do minor paper work. It all sounded quite boring to her, and she was glad he was here so that she could get her own out of this.

"Sounds better." He said in a gruff voice. She did like it better. It sounded wild, free, unlike her prissy birth name.

"Sure thing, J." She raised an eyebrow, looking at him again. She tied her apron behind her and pulled a thermometer from her pocket, advancing towards him. Like walking the plank, wondering if she was going to be saved once she was pushed off the edge.

"Don't you think…" he licked his lips, "you should have some respect? Children should respect adults." The end of his words, 'think', 'respect' sounded poisonous and harsh.

"Respect is earned, J. Besides, I'm not a kid, I'm nineteen." She corrected him, her hand on her hip. "Now open up, ahhhh..." She waved the thermometer at his face.

For some reason, she felt at ease with him. He was a challenge, and she enjoyed that. Yes, he spit the thermometer back in her face. Yes, he bit her finger. Yes, he looked like he was about to kill her at any moment, but Harleen had to admit that she was enjoying his games, his fun.

"You gonna kiss it to make it better, J? Huh?" She snided and held up her middle finger, which was dripping in blood up to his face. Then, he did something she honestly didn't expect.

Grabbing her by the wrist, he took her hand up to his mouth. Mesmerized, all she did was watch in fascination. His lips parted, his yellow fangs bared, as his tongue slid across her skin, lapping the blood up. His embrace was warm. She wanted to gasp. She felt her knees weaken. But, no, being the character she was, she couldn't help but…

"AIDS." She stated. The joker's eyes darted to meet hers.

"Gotcha." She stuck her tongue out and pulled her hand away, walking to the sink to run some water. She stared in awe at her finger, which seemed to shine in spit and blood, before reluctantly washing it all away, as if it never happened. Something inside of her flinched. Why was she sad? She was dealing with a lunatic, here! But… was he really crazy? Maybe he was just misunderstood?

He erupted into laughter, clapping his hands fervently. She whirled, drops of water hitting the tile floor. She backed up against the sink. By the time she realized what was going on, he was walking towards her, still clapping. His claps were fast, without a rhythm, much like her heartbeat, which she swore was in her ears. Yet, uneven apart, together in unison. Clap. Heartbeat. Clap. Beat. Clap. Beat.

Clap…

Beat…

Harleen blinked as his stared connected with hers once again? Why did he do that? It felt as though he was reading her like a book. "I'm not afraid of you." She boldly stated as he cornered her against the sink.

His head tilted as he drew towards her face. She held his stare.

"And why is that, Haaarrrrleyyy." She could feel his breath on her neck.

"You're locked up. You're on more medications than I am. You're the one that requires ME." She dodged away from him, but not before he stuck out his leg to trip her. Years of gymnastics couldn't fail her now as she twirled and kept perfectly balance as she graced away from his body.

"Now open up and say 'Ahhh' like a good patient before I call security." She wasn't about to let him win. She was here to have fun, he was going to be _her _game.

"Well if you insist, Mommy Dearest." He took the thermometer off the counter and stuck it under his tongue obediently. Harleen raised an eyebrow at this. She took the time to turn away from him and catch her breath. Why did he keep staring at her? Why did she mention her own meds? _Harleen, you idiot!_ She thought.

Beep beep.

She turned back around and took back the thermometer from between his lips. "Yowch, you're burning up!" She joked and grinned at him, trying to make the uneasiness disappear. He smirked as she wrote down 98.6 on his medical sheet. She glanced over at where his name was. It was merely blank. She clicked her pen on her hip and wrote in J, there, all better.

"Harley Darling." He stated, sliding her arms in front of the paper she was working on, pushing it away, his face drawing to hers again. Harleen could smell him. He smelled musty, oily, and coppery. Was… that blood?

She sighed. "Yeah, J?"

"Do you like to have fun?" He raised a brow, ever so curious. What kind of question is that? Why was he so damn hard to read? It could have something to do with him being the prince of crime. Hmmm. Prince…

"Of course I do." She smiled, looking over at him. His scars seemed tattooed mysteriously across his grin. She wanted to reach out and touch them for some reason.

"And how do you go about, having this fun?" He pouted his lips, contorting his scars into another shape. It was like a kaleidoscope.

Thinking back on playing Halo, various MMO, FPS, and other games on her PC, she said without thought, "I like to play games, I mean v—"

"Oh I like to play games too." He smirked, his darkness drawing her in, mesmerizing, terrifying, electric, dark, and strong.

"Did I ever tell you about how I got my scars?" His fingers grasped her cheek and she let out a yelp as they drew into her, pulling on the sides of her mouth. She tumbled backwards and hit the door, her head absorbing impact. She glared furiously at him as he toyed with her, pulling back her cheek, forcing her to create a smile.

Knock.

The Joker receded, keeping his eyes locked on her, giving her cheeks a nice squeeze before he traveled the whole 5 feet back to his bed. She felt her body cave in.

Knock.

She turned around and opened the door, "Yes?" It was another nurse, a fellow intern.

"Ms. Quinzel, it's time for … his," the way the intern used the word 'his' had reminded Harleen of the 'chickenshit wizards' from Harry Potter. She would have cracked a smile if her cheek wasn't aching so much and her head wasn't pounding. "... His therapy session." She said in a very hushed voiced. Harleen gave her a pat. "One minute." The nurse nodded and backed out gladly.

Harleen held onto the ajar door with a foot, her arms crossed. Hell if she was going to quit, she would show him! She would fight, persevere, and give him the hard time he deserved. He wasn't going to break her, he wasn't going to use her, and he wasn't going to win.

"See ya, J." She turned around and left, slamming the door behind her.

The Joker leaned against the wall, arms crossed, copying her. He licked his lips. How little she knew…

--

Let me know what you think of their interaction please! Thank you for reading! :)


	4. Everyone loves a slinky!

A/n: This chapter is Joker POV and it is dark, abusive, and pretty sadistic. Thank you for the support, especially to those who continuously review.

Chapter 4: Everyone loves a Slinky!

He was actually surprised that she came back the next day. And the next. And every day after that. The joker looked up at the clock on his wall… 3:35pm, just about the time Harley got out of class, hopped on her scooter, snapped on her helmet and pinched the underside of her neck, and made her way to Arkham. She was a fighter, all right, but he would have to change that. If she was going to come visit him everyday in the name of "employment", he would have to make some use out of her, out of… Harley Quinn, not Harleen Quinzel. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the flimsy mattress, his greasy hair spread out underneath him.

Click, click, click, and click. The locks on the door slid open as "Harley" wedged through the door carrying a tray of medicine, records and other various items. She had become pretty well accustomed to his presence. She didn't flinch, stare, or bite her lip around him anymore. He watched her intently, licking his scars. Harley, as he really did prefer to call her, seemed to talk to herself in little mumbles as she rearranged all the medications. Her delicate finger tips spun the bottles round and round as she read each label. She held one up and paused momentarily… before setting it aside. He raised a curious brow.

"Ya know, if you don't give me all the little candies, your uncle may just be a teensy weensy bit mad." He interjected her little ritual of getting ready. He propped himself up on one elbow, cheek cupped in his hand, and looked up over at her from the bed. She ignored him and continued marking off things on the chart.

"Do you _want_ to take 300mg of …" She paused to struggle reading off the name. "_Sertraline__ hydrochloride_?"

A twisted grin construed across his visage. "You're here early." He watched as she dropped his dosage of anti-depressants into a vial of liquid, in which they evaporated quickly. Harley pushed in the top of the vial and placed it in her white coat. Apparently, she had become quite accustomed to the facility in only a week. She was no doubt, a smart, yet malleable girl. The tinfoil teenager finished up her preliminary duties and pulled up a chair, plopping down in it.

"Yeah. I skipped Criminal Justice." He watched her fingers move from her lap to brush a tendril of gold behind her ear. His track followed to her exposed neck, in which there was a patch of red just under her chin. "I was thinking, well I do enough justice here, so why bother!" He watched her etch her own smile and he whooped with laughter, rocking back onto the bed, feet kicking. Why! This girl was a real riot. Dense, yet brilliant. Clumsy, but acrobatic. Predictable, yet surprisingly exciting. In his eyes, she was a real woman, though, he would hardly ever admit it.

She finished her giggle and looked over at him. He rolled on up to sit up, knees to his stomach, smirking right at her. The prince of crime was no longer interested in scaring her off, as he figured this would not be possible, considering the amount of abuse he had already put her through. From now on, he was purely testing what she was willing to endure. She was just so… oh so fascinating, so ripe, so Harlequin.

"Do you have one of them boyfriends, Harley?" He tilted his head and rocked closer towards her. She laughed and shook her head, pigtails wobbling from side to side. For some reason, he felt relieved. The thought of this girl sucking face or sucking _else_ made him grind his candy corn coloured teeth. He thought of slicing said throat of such a delinquent young male, how the blood would run down his chest, how he would try to scream out and how it would only come forth in a coughing gurgle as he stumbled to the ground. The Joker pondered over this mental delight and decided he did quite miss his knives.

"Yeah right, my uncle would never have it. You're the closest I have to a …" Her words cut as her cheeks grew pink. "W-What about you J? Did you have a woman?"

The villain reached the end of the bed, his feet hit the ground and he looked around the room searchingly. "A squeeze, huh." He stopped to reflect. "Yes, I did, however I threw her out a window." He stated in a matter of fact tone. He thought back on the party he had once crashed searching for a particular district attorney. The expression on his face was everything serious, yet not serious at all. His dark stare rolled back around to her, who seemed to be trying to assess the situation.

"Would you ever throw me out a window, J?" She asked whole heartedly. He chuckled to himself before answering,

"Not unless I had a reason."

She seemed to reflect upon this yet again before nodding. Just as he expected, she accepted everything he said, though it was in honesty, not fear, embracing, rather than shakily holding. Before she could respond, he posed another question.

"What's your opinion on… the Bat." His voice became uneven on the last few syllables; his fingers twisted in turned with each one another in his own grip. She blinked at him and shook her head.

"I don't know, what do you mean?" Her blue eyes narrowed. He became impatient with her and shook his head, deranged dirty blonde hair flying.

"Don't you read any fashion magazines? I hear he's all the _rage_." He scowled at her, yet she only furrowed her brows.

"I don't think he's good, I don't think he's bad. He's just annoying. He gets all this attention and he's not even worth it." She finally spilled with a little bit of a push. He nodded, listening to her. "He acts like he's a prince, and he does whatever he wants, he's no different than…" She caught herself, and her shoulders heaved. He cracked his knuckles.

"Than?" He edged off the bed towards her and extended his hands towards her face.

"Than you…" she softly whispered and looked into his eyes. "Except you're stuck here, and he's out there. Things should be diff'rent J…" Her voice sounded more like a plea, not for his mercy though, not from his wrath. His hands grasped the side of her face, fingers extended to the back of her neck. She gasped such a delicious, fresh sound. He slightly shook her face, pressing the metal of his cuffs against her exposed neck. He grinned and squeezed his nails in the back of her neck before letting go. She let out a soft groan as her body tilted back, quivering. He released his grip of her and gave her a good ol' pat on the head and ruffled up her hair, blood dripping from his dirty fingernails into her sunshine hair.

"Thatta girl, Harley."

She smiled in response.

--

Did you have fun? I did. I'm holding the next chapter for ransom in trade for reviews.


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